Packmates
by PenPatronus
Summary: After the events of "Insatiable," Derek races to Scott's house to help him take care of Stiles. Hurt / comfort, friendship, family. Written after "Insatiable" but before "The Divine Move."


**Summary:** After the events of "Insatiable," Derek races to Scott's house to help him take care of Stiles. Hurt / comfort, friendship, family. Written after "Insatiable" but before "The Divine Move."

**Packmates**

PenPatronus

"I left the Twins with Peter," Derek said as he ran his third stop sign in a row. "If I threaten him enough he'll probably pick up the wolf's bane samples from Deaton."

"Ok." Chris Argent's voice over the phone sounded stiff, hollow. "Right."

Derek licked his lips, then bit down on them. "Listen, after I check on Scott I can…" Derek shook his head. He had no idea what to say. He and Chris weren't enemies anymore but Derek wasn't sure if they were friends. "…Do you – do you need… anything?"

Chris coughed to cover a sniffle. "Lydia's with me. We're taking Allison's body to the hospital and the Sheriff is meeting us there."

"What about Stiles and Isaac?"

"Stiles is with Scott, and Isaac… I don't know." Chris sighed. "He ran off without a word. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid. After we're done at the hospital I could track him—"

"He probably just wants to be alone." Derek turned down Scott's silent street and spotted Stiles' jeep in the McCall's driveway. "Scott might, too."

"No, he needs somebody with him," Chris said. "Or at least someone with Stiles."

Derek frowned. "Why Stiles?"

"He…" Chris cleared his throat. Derek heard Lydia sobbing in the background. "Stiles is in rough shape. He passed out in Oak Creek and we couldn't wake him up."

"What? Scott should've taken him to the hospital."

"He was possessed by a demon, Derek. Whatever's wrong with him can't be fixed with a pill. The doctors can't do anything for him."

Derek's frown deepened. "He's dying, isn't he?"

Chris didn't answer.

"I'll take care of them." Derek parked behind the jeep and got out of his car. He took a deep breath and then said, before he could second guess himself, "I'm so sorry about Allison. So sorry."

Chris sniffed. He sounded like he had a head cold. "I'll call tomorrow," he whispered. He hung up before Derek did.

Derek stuffed his phone in his pocket and walked up the driveway. He shut Stiles' drivers-side door as he passed the jeep. A moment later he did a double take and looked back at the vehicle. The passenger-side door was open, too. Derek looked up at the house and saw that the front door was also ajar. Terror caused pins and needles to travel from Derek's heart down to his toes. His mind went lightning-fast through scenarios: did Scott just forget or was he being robbed or did the Nogitsune follow him home to kill Stiles—

Derek unsheathed his claws and sprinted into the house, shutting the door behind him. "_Scott_?" he yelled. "_**Scott**_!"

"Up here," a voice whispered.

Derek looked up and saw his blood and tear-stained friend sitting against the wall at the top of the staircase with a grey, unmoving Stiles in his lap. "Oh, god." Derek took the stairs two at a time and knelt beside them, one hand on Scott's shoulder, the other on the pulse in Stiles' neck.

Scott's chest heaved with panic. "He w-woke up for a minute," he said of Stiles. "Just a minute. And then he passed out again and his breathing got really slow." Scott cradled Stiles' cheek against his shoulder and rubbed his thumb up and down his pale neck. "And Allison's dead, Derek, Allison's d-dead." He held his other hand in front of his face. It was trembling and red with blood. Blood that was still warm. Scott's eyes blazed red and he let out a grunt of grief. "She's dead – she's dead!" Scott opened his mouth again but no words came out. His eyes widened and he clutched the shirt above his heart. _Inhaler_, he mouthed, and pointed at his bedroom.

He was having a panic attack, Derek realized. And why not? The love of his life died in his arms and his best friend was _dying_ in his arms. Derek scrambled into Scott's bedroom and started rummaging through his drawers until he found an off-white asthma inhaler. He returned to Scott, whose face was beet-red, but instead of handing the inhaler over he stuck it right in his mouth. Scott inhaled, coughed, and took several deep breaths. Then he leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. Tears still escaped through his eyelids.

Derek decided that Scott needed him to be an Alpha. No, he corrected himself, an older brother. "Here, I'll take him," Derek said as he slid his arms beneath Stiles. "I'm just going to put him in your bed, all right?" Reluctantly, Scott let go. Derek gently scooped Stiles up and then set him down on top of the covers. "Be right back," he assured the unconscious boy. Derek patted him on the shoulder on his way out.

Scott sat shivering with his arms wrapped around his knees. "Come on," Derek said, and he held his hand out for Scott to take. Scott didn't even blink. Derek knelt in front of him and grasped his arm. "Get up, Scott," he ordered – all authority. He pulled the werewolf to his feet and led him into the bathroom. Scott didn't put up a fight as Derek forced him out of his blood-stained shirt. Derek threw the clothes in the trash – on top of a bag of gauze Scott stripped off of Stiles the day before. He had the teen sit on the side of the bathtub and hold still while Derek removed his boots and socks and tossed them out of sight. Then he took Scott by the wrists and put his red hands under running water from the sink. Obediently, Scott held still while Derek washed and scrubbed all traces of the blood away. All the time Derek kept his hearing attuned to Stiles' breaths in the next room.

Derek dried Scott off and got him a clean shirt. He set up a chair beside the bed and made Scott sit in it. Derek left them, then, and went downstairs to the kitchen. He picked up bottles of water and a box of crackers and returned. Scott wasn't in the chair. He'd curled up in the bed beside Stiles and, miraculously, fell asleep. Derek sighed. He put the snacks on the desk and turned out the lights. And then he sat in the chair, his arm stretched out and his hand clasping Stiles' with his fingers on his pulse. A shallow pulse, a light pulse, but a pulse it was. Stiles heart was still beating. As Derek started to drift off to sleep he vowed to keep that heart beating no matter what.

**The End**


End file.
